Eric didn’t know any other way to say this, so he just came out with it. “If we find human remains, I won’t let you take photos. These are our friends.”
“One of them is my friend, too. If there are human remains, I wouldn’t even try to take photos. I’m not an asshole.”
Eric liked this guy. He, Ramirez, and Brandon climbed into the truck and started down the mountain toward town. The sheriff had closed the westbound lanes in Boulder Canyon, opening both to eastbound vehicles and resolving the traffic jam.
Ramirez called someone. “I’m fine. Don’t worry. It’s pretty bad up here. Gabe Rossiter and seven other people were entrapped at a camp. The fire burned through. I’m on a helicopter that’s going to search for survivors. Yeah, I hope so, too. I love you, too.”
He ended the call. “My wife Mia. She’s nine months pregnant with our first.”
Despite the heaviness in his chest, Eric found himself smiling. “Congratulations, man. That’s great. You’re going to love being a dad. My wife, Vicki, is expecting our second.”
“No way!” Silver toasted them with his water bottle. “Congrats to both of you.”
The helo was landing as they pulled into the hospital parking lot.
“Do you really think there’s a chance they’re alive?” Silver asked.
Eric didn’t know how to answer that. “If they are, they need us.”
They grabbed their gear out of the truck and ran to the helipad, ducking down as they boarded. Eric sat in front where he could have the best view, Silver and Ramirez in back with their gear. He buckled in, put on his earphones, gave the pilot the GPS for Camp Mato Sapa. They would go there first.
“You know I can’t carry more than six people at a time,” the pilot said.
“We’ll be very lucky if we end up facing that problem.”
The pilot lifted off, nosed its way forward, gained altitude.
Eric typed out a quick text message to Vicki telling her he was on his way to look for survivors at Camp Mato Sapa and to find Taylor.
That son of a bitch better be alive.
Eric wouldn’t be able to live with himself otherwise. He’d been the one who’d asked Taylor to head out to Haley Preserve.
“Holy fuck.” Silver’s voice came over the earphones.
Eric’s stomach knotted at the sight. “Is that your professional opinion?”
“Pretty much.”
The fire looked impossible to stop, a wall of smoke and flame stretching from the backside of Ski Scarlet, across the canyons, down the backside of the ridge they’d tried to hold, and off to the northwest to the highway. Soon, it would make a run through mountain homes to the top of Dead Man’s Hill, where Tall Bull and his crew were already setting a backburn.
Silver nudged his arm, handed him a bottle of water. “I haven’t seen you drink anything in a while.”
“Right.” Eric was always nagging his crew to stay hydrated. He needed to follow his own good advice. “Thanks.”
He took a drink, capped the bottle, did his best not to think beyond this moment, this rescue mission. If he let himself get caught up in grief, he’d be no good to anyone, and saving Scarlet Springs was stillhisresponsibility, no matter who was Incident Command.
Wind blew the smoke plume eastward, compromising visibility, so the pilot radioed for permission to climb. Eric glanced at the radar, saw three blips that represented the two SEATs and the Skycrane, all of them on the way back to refill their tanks, the Skycrane at the reservoir just east of town and the SEATs at the airport.
“This is where it gets bumpy,” the pilot said.
A big wildfire like this one made flying hazardous. Convective currents of hot air rose up from the blaze, causing turbulence. In Eric’s experience, fixed-wing aircraft had a harder time managing it than helos, but he grabbed the handle near the door anyway.
Thunk!
Something hit the window next to Eric’s head. At first, he thought it was a bird, but it flew into pieces.
The pilot cursed. “A fucking drone!”